Through Our Letters
by Qwerty616120
Summary: Always curious in this body, he was. Writing to strangers, probably not smart, but who needed smart when you had curiosity? So he does- write to this stranger- and ignores Amy's stranger-danger warning. But wait... this stranger is who? No, she can't be telling the truth... can she? (Implied 11/Rose, Prequel to "Pursuing the Heart") COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1- Through Our Letters

** On boring, rainy days there's nothing better to do than click around my old writing. And what do I find? This old fic. Well, not too old. But at least a good few months. **

** Anyway, I was going to delete it, but decided I'd just go ahead and post it. Why not? So, hopefully you guys will enjoy it. I'm not planning on writing more, but if anyone likes it, I might throw some sort of part 2 together. No promises, though. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Doctor Who, or the characters. :( **

**Enjoy :) **

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_Thinking of you is easy - I do it every day. Missing you is the heartache that never goes away._

_-Michael Pryce_

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**Through Our Letters **

"Goodnight, Ponds," the Doctor called over his shoulder, pretending to be completely occupied with the book he was holding in his hands. The redhead and her husband cast a look at the upside-down book, amused, but said nothing as they vanished down the hallway that led to their room.

The moment they were gone, the Doctor threw the book carelessly over his shoulder, barely hearing the _thump_ and rustle of crinkled pages as it hit the grated floor of the large console room.

"Hello, there," he muttered, pulling a blank sheet of paper from his trans-dimensional pockets. The paper didn't respond, but that was okay. The man hadn't expected it to... yet. Pulling a pen from his other pocket, he wrote

_Hello, there, _on the page, watching as the ink bled together in inky puddles and rearranged itself into different words, new words. The Doctor grinned.

_Hey, yourself :) _

This ritual- writing on the oddly responsive paper in the darkness of night- was one that had become common in the last few months, ever since he'd discovered the page in an abandoned 74th Century spacecraft in a distant galaxy.

At first, of course, he'd been wary. He'd seen something similar to this before- it was like texting, or calling someone off a cell phone. Someone, somewhere, had an identical piece of paper and was writing back. It could be anyone, friend or foe, so the Doctor had known (ok, so Amy had scolded him) to beware the odd mystery person (stranger-danger and all that).

He'd meant to dispose of the stupid page, too. But… well… he'd gotten curious, and… well.

_Emoticons. At least 20__th__ Century, then, _he wrote, smirking slightly. The page's twin could be anywhere across time and space, so the Doctor had made it a sort of game to try and guess the mystery person's time and identity- an identity the other was strangely reluctant to share.

A range of profanities flirted across the page, confirming the Doctor's guess. His smirk grew and he adjusted his bow tie smugly. Oh, he was good, he really was.

_You're making this too easy, _he wrote. The response came back only seconds later.

_Oh, really? You know my time. But I'll bet you still don't know my name. _

The Doctor rolled his eyes and wrote, _Rumpelstiltskin? _

_Haha, very funny, _came the sarcastic response. _Tonight it's my turn to guess about you, though, remember? _

_How could I forget? _The man in the bow tie smiled as he wrote the words. This person was easy to talk to, and he rather enjoyed their little conversations. If only he knew who it was!

_Let's see… you're male and adult, I know that. You're at least in the 19__th__ Century, but judging by the way you talk, I'm guessing at least 20__th__ or 21__st__ Century. And… single? _

_What makes you think I'm single? _The Doctor replied, somewhat indignantly.

_You've never mentioned a girlfriend or a wife. _

_Oh. Yeah, _the Doctor wrote back after a minute. He was struck (not for the first time) at how _familiar _the person seemed. Something about the way they had to write things out to think them through, the easy banter…

_Have we met? _He asked (not for the first time). Mystery Person's response was the same as it had been last time, and the time before that.

_How should I know if I don't know your name? _

_Tell me a bit about yourself, then. This is driving me crazy. _There was a long pause after he'd written the words, and he knew why. It was the first time either of them had asked for information point-blank like that- normally they gleaned what info they could through their maddening guessing game.

_I tell you something, you tell me something. Deal? _

_Deal, _the Doctor wrote back easily. He had 900 years of memories- it should be easy enough for him to offer random information that wouldn't give him away (assuming he had met the person).

_Ok, here goes nothing. I'm twenty-two. _

_Twenty-two? _The Doctor wrote back, slightly surprised. He'd been envisioning someone older, for some reason.

_Oi! _Added Mystery Person, as if reading the Doctor's thoughts. _Your turn. _

_I like bow ties. _

_Bow ties? _

_Yes, bow ties, _The Doctor wrote firmly. _Bow ties are cool, Mystery Person. _

_Mystery Person? _There was no way to convey laughter through writing, but somehow the Doctor just _knew _the other person was currently doing just that.

_What, would you prefer Mystery Man? _

_Mystery Woman, if you must know. _Once again, the Doctor got the odd impression of amusement.

_Ah, female and twenty-two. Now we're getting somewhere! _The man wrote, jumping up and pacing, the paper held in one hand, the pen in the other. _Twenty-two… and single? _

_I am now. _

The simple response made the Doctor stop his pacing. Inwardly he cursed his callused assumption. At twenty-two, he'd assumed Mystery Woman wasn't old enough to have "tied the knot" or experienced much real heartbreak. Apparently he was wrong.

_I'm sorry, _he wrote, knowing the words were inadequate. Unsummoned, a memory of blonde hair and brown eyes crept up into the corners of his mind, and he pushed the thoughts away quickly. He was over her, he was, and he was okay (except he wasn't).

_It's okay. We weren't really "together-together", just best mates._

_What happened? _

_He left. _A moment later, more words appeared, as if Mystery Woman had just realized how that sounded. _He didn't want to, or anything. We were split up. _

_Can't you just go find him? _

_No, _came the reply, and the impression of amusement the Doctor had gotten earlier was now replaced with the impression of pain and heartbreak. _He's… gone. For good. He can't come back, and I can't go to him. Enough about me, though. You're single? _

_Well… _here the Doctor trailed off. Mystery Woman's story had brought back memories of a blonde companion, trapped in Norway a universe away, kept away from him, forever… and this time, the memories wouldn't be quiet. Suddenly the Doctor had an overwhelming desire to tell someone, _anyone, _like a drowned man needed air.

_There was this girl, once, _he admitted finally. _My story's a bit like yours, actually. We were split up, permanently. Circumstances got rough- rough like you wouldn't believe- and I lost her. _A choked sound came from the bow tie-clad man, but no tears followed. He'd run out of tears a long time ago. And now he'd gotten the truth out, but it hadn't helped. Nothing would help.

He felt numb, hollow, like an empty jar that had been shattered beyond repair and if you stepped in the wrong place, you'd find yourself hurt. This body felt pain differently than his last body had- or maybe the wound was just too fresh still.

_You'd be surprised how much I'd believe _the woman wrote back. He had no idea if she was joking or not, but decided to take it that way to lighten the suddenly dark, painful mood.

_Oh, really? Angels made of stone? _

_Try werewolves and cyberman, _came the response. Something about the words made the Doctor freeze… why did he feel like he should know the person based on that simple sentence? There was something, some memory, just out of reach…. If he could only remember! He should ask, he knew he should. Man up and just blurt it out.

_The ood, _he wrote instead.

_The ood? Really? _Came the response, accompanied by the odd allusion of surprise. _I met some ood once. I thought they were all killed. _

_Nope, definitely alive, _his mind flashed back to the memory of another companion- Donna. _I've run into them a few times. _

_Oh, _the surprised feeling that emitted from the paper was replaced by a feeling of what the Doctor could swear was relief. _Good. The ones we met didn't deserve to die. _

Once again, the Doctor was struck by how familiar the words sounded.

_We? _He questioned, looking over the writing.

_Me and my friend. _

_The one you were separated from? _There was a pause, during which the Doctor cursed his nosy nature fluently in half a dozen languages and smacked the console board in frustration (resulting in a red, sore hand and a low hum of reproach from the ship herself).

"Sorry, sexy," he muttered aloud, only half paying attention to his ship's reprimand as he studied the vanilla sheet in his hands.

_Yeah, him, _came the response finally. _You're very curious, Mr… _

_That's not going to work, _the Doctor snorted at the somewhat pathetic attempt to find out his name.

_Then make something up! I can't keep calling you Mystery Man. _The response had a sense of finality to it, so the Doctor sighed and scrawled down his usual alias.

_John Smith. You? _

_John Smith? _Repeated Mystery Woman. The loopy writing was somewhat messy, like her hand had been unsteady while she wrote out the name. _My friend used to go by that name. _

_It's a common name, _the Doctor dismissed, sitting back down and putting his feet up on the console. _C'mon then, give me your fake name. _

There was a long, long pause, like the other was contemplating something. The Doctor was just about to ask again when the response came into view, the ink slowly forming a name the Doctor had never expected to see again. He read it once, twice, and then three times before the paper fell from his hands, drifting to a rest on the grated floor next to the discarded book.

From the fallen paper, one name stared back at him, as if daring him to hope, to wish for the impossible:

_Bad Wolf. _

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**Aaaannnnndddd that's all I have. :) Hate it? Love it? Want a part 2? Think that's a good ending there? Drop me a review on your way out and tell me what you think! Until next time! :) **


	2. Chapter 2- Sequel Preview!

**Hello, all! :) Wow. Thank you for all the incredible support on that one shot- everyone seemed to love it, so I thought why not? I'm going to expand on this idea and go all out. **

** I will be writing a second fic titled "****Pursuing the Heart****" that treats this one-shot as a prequel. That's right, there will be a sequel, not just a part 2! :D I'm pretty excited to write this fic, so here's a little sneak peak to get ya'll excited, too. Enjoy! **

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Rose Tyler's breath echoed off the stone walls of the dark, damp tunnel as she raced through it, her small bag thumping against her back with every step. Behind her, the torchlight and yells of her pursuers urged her onward, her tired lungs gasping for breath and her legs burning.

Right turn, left turn, another right turn. She'd lost her way long ago, and even if she did shake her pursuers, she wasn't sure she'd be able to find her way out.

_Don't think about that, _she scolded herself silently, making another wild turn to the left. _Just focus on getting away. _Behind her, the light faded briefly, plunging her world into a murky darkness, before the bobbing light reappeared as her enemies rounded the corner.

_If I can just get to the Doctor- if he even knows- then I'll be safe. I just have to find the Doctor. _

She tried to ignore her mounting doubts, doubts that she'd recognize him, doubts that he'd even gotten her plea for help. Because if he hadn't, she was as good as dead.

_He has to be looking for me. He _has _to! _

Behind her, the light got brighter as her pursuers got closer, illuminating more of the path ahead. As she saw more, Rose pulled up short, just barely stopping herself from tumbling off the ledge into the darkness below.

The path vanished into a deep cliff, an abyss. Behind her, the light grew steadily brighter as they got closer. Rose was trapped.

_If only I'd never written those stupid words, _Rose thought, fighting back fear as they poured around the corner, only feet away.

But no; she'd just had to write Bad Wolf. She'd started this.

Bad Wolf.

The beginning of the end.

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**Once again, the fic will be called "****Pursuing the Heart****", and I will be posting the first chapter in two days, on Sunday, May the 11, 2014. It'll be anywhere from 5 to 10 chapters, depending on how certain scenes play out length-wise. Anyway, hopefully this little snippet got ya'll excited. See you on Sunday! **

**-Qwerty **


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